


At Once Our Time Devour

by whosays_penultimate



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e02 Primavera, M/M, Scar Worship, basically a bit of smut layered with angst, canon-compliant ambiguous consent, handjob, if those corpses could talk they'd tell these two to sort out their issues, silently judging dead bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8231183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whosays_penultimate/pseuds/whosays_penultimate
Summary: Sexy times in the catacombs. Yeah, you know it. Not angst-free, because that’s how I roll.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Andrew Marvell poem. Yeah, that one. (◡‿◡✿)

“Hannibal”, Will whispered into the oppressive darkness hiding Hannibal’s presence. “I forgive you.”

He stared around wildly, hoping and dreading a glimpse of someone who wasn't a corpse but who was at home as any of them in this house of the dead. But only the empty sockets of decaying bodies met his questing glances. He went on, giving mad chase - to what end he knew not – yearning and vengeance both spurring him on.

Did he really want to meet Hannibal here? Was he ready for the final reckoning? He was in a vulnerable state of mind, a storm of emotion and longing – anger, guilt, pain, love – the hopeless, shameful, touch-starved hungry love for this impossible man (a man or the incarnation of the Devil himself? Sometimes Will found himself considering this alternative quite seriously).

Will had sailed to Florence with the wind at his back.  The rough journey and the bracing ocean air had soothed the sore inflammation of his failure and filled him with a new exhilaration of purpose. But now - upon seeing Hannibal’s offering in the chapel – the tormented heart pulsing with angry love for him, he fell back into the familiar trap of fascination and desire. Hannibal must've known - the strings of Will's empathy couldn't help but vibrate in resonance with such a gift - broken and remade, and laid at his feet. Will's design as much as Hannibal's. An accusation as much as an invitation. The intricacies of Hannibal's cruel seduction. 

Will stopped for a moment to rethink his path. He suspected that he had been retracing his own steps, while Hannibal slipped just out of his reach, undoubtedly familiar with the dimly lighted catacombs. Will considered going back, but immediately decided against it. He felt an irresistible pull at some sort of consummation. To kill or be killed – tear or be torn  - or to –

Will gasped.

The older man had moved silently and precisely like a cat, and now suddenly Will felt the warmth of a living body pressing to his from behind.

“Please don’t hurt me”, Will had whispered before he could think any better.

“Hurt you?” Hannibal’s voice came to him slowly coaxing from the gloom, and Will could weep with how much he had missed the honey-lilt of his familiar accent. He could smell Hannibal’s cologne mixed with leather, a scent both familiar and new, subtly enticing, and he deeply breathed it in. “I know you’ve come to associate my touch with pain but this one time I will allow myself not to hurt you”, Hannibal continued. “We have stolen this moment.”

He grabbed Will’s wrists, seemingly to ensure Will wasn’t going to hurt him either.

“You know how much I want to be close to you", he whispered into Will's hair. "And you – you’re _dying_ to be close to me. What are you doing here, searching for the man who has gutted you? Coming all the way to Florence to find him? Dismissing the only help you had so you can chase him alone through the houses of the dead? Is it Death that you seek? Yours or mine? Or is it something else?”

”I sailed across the Atlantic in a boat to find you”, Will whispered, in an agony of shame and longing.

Hannibal’s grip on his wrists tightened momentarily.

“Such a romantic gesture”, he breathed.

“Romantic? The boat’s name was Nola.”

“Romantic and significant, then. With the pathos and tragedy of a grand opera.”

“I figured you’d appreciate the reference”, Will answered, aiming for sarcastic, but sounding rather pleased.

“Tell me, Will – are you still craving my approval? This quest you are on, this fever dream we’re in, chasing each other, are you doing this for me, or to me?”

“Both”, Will decided finally.

“And you burn with the ecstasy of it as only saints can burn”, Hannibal murmured close to his ear, his breath upsetting an errant curl. “What is it then, that you want to do to me? Or for me?”

 “I forgive you”, Will repeated.

“You forgive me? For giving you this?”

Hannibal's hands slipped from Will’s wrists and he squeezed one palm over Will's belly, intimate and possessive. They had not been lovers but that had never stopped Hannibal from acting like they were.

Will dropped his freed hands to hang aimlessly by his sides,  not making a move to fight or try to restrain Hannibal. He leaned back into the soft warmth that was Hannibal, with a sigh of content. He could feel Hannibal smile, even though he could not see him. 

“Here you are, standing here, like you stood in my kitchen in Baltimore”, Hannibal’s gravelly voice came to him as if from a dream, “even though you had a gun then – do you have a gun now? - letting me put my hands all over you. What do you really want, Will?”

“I don’t know,” Will answered, truthfully.

“You don’t know”, Hannibal echoed, breath so close to his ear it made Will shudder. “What’s to be done about that?”

Will was leaning back against Hannibal so heavily he was close to sinking to the ground. Instead of pulling him upright, Hannibal maneuvered him all the way down, then sat down beside him.

“Please don’t hurt me”, Will repeated.

“My touch will come to you for once without pain”, Hannibal reassured him again, patiently, and to Will’s yearning heart, the words seemed fraught with tenderness. “Would you like that, Will?” Hannibal’s voice dropped an octave lower, intimate and husky. “For me to touch you?”

“This is wrong, it’s so _very_ wrong”, Will babbled. He squirmed uncomfortably, averting his eyes from the shrouded corpses which loomed at the edge of his vision.The ancient stone stabbed tendrils of ice into his back.

“You came here to be wrong", Hannibal countered. "Shhhh. It’s okay", he stilled Will with a palm across his chest. "Remember, this moment is stolen. For once, we are not bound by time.”

Yet the victims of time were all around them. Large, pale cadavers staring them down in quiet judgement. Hannibal seemed as enlivened by their presence as he was by Will’s closeness. His wandering hands traveled down Will’s body, with the familiarity of a lover’s caress.

“Please allow me to see my handiwork properly.”

He pulled up Will’s shirt and gazed enraptured at the scar. He touched it reverently.

“Is it still tender?” Hannibal whispered. “Sore? How does it feel?”

“It feels like you. Raw and jagged.”

“A reminder”, Hannibal breathed, then bent to press his lips against it.

Will choked back a cry.

The beast in him, tearing him apart from inside out, stirred and gasped, yearning for Hannibal’s teeth. But Hannibal was all gentleness as his soft lips and warm tongue tenderly traced the scar, from one side to the other, every inch of it lavished with attention. Will squirmed, wanting to escape the overwhelming sensation, but Hannibal was practically on top of him now.

“What are you doing?” Will asked nonsensically, only to break the silence.

Hannibal looked up at him with shadowed eyes.

“Tasting. Reliving.”

Will gave a desperate little huff.

“Reliving that particular moment will bring nothing but pain. Trust me, I've done it myself more times than I can count.”

“Perhaps. But maybe also the wisdom which comes with knowledge”, Hannibal spoke against his skin.

“What knowledge?” Will managed.

“Knowledge of you”, Hannibal answered, lifting his eyes again to Will’s. “I have never obtained such intimate knowledge of you, and perhaps that has been my failing. Perhaps it’s time I did.”

Will’s eyes widened and his hands flew to Hannibal’s hair – his fingers twisted and clutched the silky strands, but did not push Hannibal away.

Satisfied, Hannibal returned his attention to Will’s scar, scraping gently the jagged line with his teeth, then soothing it with his tongue, his efforts making the patched skin shine with an inflamed blush. Will shuddered, lightheaded, and tightened his fingers on Hannibal’s scalp.

“Do you think of me when you see it?” Hannibal murmured against his skin. “When you touch it.”

“Yes. Always”, Will answered truthfully – he had little blood left in his brain for lying.

Sickening – an increasingly distant corner of his mind commented.

“Lovely”, Hannibal smiled, giving the scar a last affectionate nip. He wound his arms tightly around Will and pulled him closer still. “Does the rest of you taste so good?” His voice had a darker edge now, tinted with arousal, and Will blinked rapidly to clear his increasingly muddy brain – he didn’t know how to deal with this new side of Hannibal, he couldn’t _think_ -

Hannibal pushed his shirt all the way up and latched his mouth onto one of Will’s nipples, sucking sensually, then moved on to the other one, laving it with even more fervent care.

“Oh god”, Will’s voice trembled.

Hannibal moved on to his neck and then he straightened Will’s head, looked into his eyes and then pressed his lips to Will’s. That apparently was Will’s limit because he started struggling.

Hannibal pulled back abruptly.

“I apologize. I should have known this was not on the table, so to speak.”

For the first time during their strange encounter, Hannibal looked marginally uncertain.

“For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine-“

Will trembled in excited apprehension, but Hannibal did not continue.

“Never mind”, Hannibal said, mastering whatever emotion had threatened to overcome him, and became his confident self again.

He undid the buttons of Will’s shirt slowly but deftly, exposing his chest. His fingers ran nimbly and gently over the sensitive skin, which twitched in the wake of Hannibal’s touch. Hannibal traced the scar again, pressing lightly along the furrowed tissue, and Will bit his lip. The questing fingers lingered just below the scar, at Will’s waistline. Will moaned faintly in reluctant entreaty. Hannibal undid his belt and then his long clever fingers were feeling for Will’s erection, barely smoothing over it, watching intently for a reaction. Will grit his teeth and bucked desperately, seeking more friction.

“Mmmm?” Hannibal said, on a  wondering tone.

He was waiting for the magic word and Will knew it, but resisted giving it.

“Stop it”, Will said instead.

Hannibal maneuvered Will to sit up, propped against the wall, right next to a grinning enshrouded skeleton.

He sat up as well, securing Will in place with one arm tightly coiled around his middle – while his other hand reached inside Will's pants to cup his erection.

“Danger and cold don’t appear to have put a dent in your arousal”, Hannibal said. He gave Will a few strokes, along his full length.

He bent to whisper confidentially, breath hot on Will’s face:

“Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Hannibal pulled his trousers and shorts down just enough to free Will's cock, exposing it to the livid air. Hannibal's grip was steadier like this, his hand engulfing the member possessively as he jerked him off, and Will couldn't hold back a moan.

Hannibal worked him over slowly and expertly, with long, sensual strokes, as Will panted helplessly and shivered, as he fought to master or evade his body’s reactions, but Hannibal held him fast, and dealt him pleasure with the same single-minded intensity as he had dealt him pain, watching Will’s reactions just as avidly.

“Uh – ah – wh- why?” Will stammered.

He watched, dizzily, as Hannibal let go of his cock enough to bring his hand to his own mouth. Hannibal delicately licked a long stripe on his palm, then generously along his fingers and between them, and Will felt his mouth water at the sight, lips parting involuntarily. Hannibal smirked and brought his hand back down to grasp Will’s cock. Will groaned, in tormented ecstasy and canted his hips upwards. The slide was easier now, and both moaned in satisfaction at the slickness. Will couldn’t take his eyes off Hannibal’s face, the singularly beautiful features enshrouded in darkness. The man was always an expert at keeping Will’s fascination captive and focused on him, and now he was weaving yet another exquisite thread to bind them together. And all of it seemingly for his own amusement. Will’s eyes filled with angry tears and he blinked fast to clear them, but not before Hannibal’s attentive gaze had noticed them, and then Hannibal was leaning forward, kissing the tears off Will's eyelashes gently, soothing them off burning cheeks with slow kisses. Will breathed harshly through his nose, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He ached to touch Hannibal but an absurd and increasingly small part of his mind was stubbornly not allowing him to.

Hannibal skimmed his lips slowly along Will’s face as he continued to pleasure him. He licked over the cupid’s bow of Will’s mouth, in a lewd parody of his earlier attempt at a kiss. He nosed at the back of his ear, Will’s curls tickling his face, as he deeply breathed in Will’s scent. Hannibal’s wandering mouth finally latched onto the side of Will’s neck where he sucked enthusiastically, worrying the skin between his teeth, dangerously close to biting, as he sped up his movements below.

“Mmmm,” Will moaned, too far gone to restrain himself. He twisted and jerked, thrusting against Hannibal’s hand with urgency.

“How very lovely”, Hannibal commented, as if to himself.

He sat back, stripping Will’s cock with merciless vigor, as he watched Will struggle in the throes of forced pleasure, as he would struggle to cling to life.

Sweat clung to Will’s forehead, eyes going glassy with pleasure, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream, as the pleasure peaked and he felt the ground shake beneath him, the darkness momentarily giving way to blinding light behind his eyelids. His essence spilled in Hannibal’s hand like an unholy offering, and it seemed like a surrender, wrested from him, as many before. His head fell forward on Hannibal's shoulder.

Hannibal worked him through it, holding him tightly to his chest until his tremors finally subsided.  He then released Will and stood up.

“Do not bother with thoughts of reciprocation”, Hannibal said, lightly. “I have been sated merely by the sight of your pleasure – and distress.”

“The latter more than the former, I assume,” Will remarked sarcastically, when his erratic breathing had subsided enough to allow him confidence to speak.

He had recovered sufficiently to start rebuilding the walls which must always separate them, and to feel embarrassed.

“Do not worry”, Hannibal said, just as coldly, wiping his hands unconcernedly with his handkerchief, and despite everything, Will was hurt by his frustratingly detached tone. “Our time of reckoning has been but postponed.”

Without another word, Hannibal turned, and, with the calm certainty that Will would not follow him, disappeared silently into the welcoming darkness.


End file.
